How To Pick Locks Novels & Stories

“This is my shit. The thing I’m really fucking good at, besides medicine.” Kai nods and leans forward to listen closely. She begins by explaining the tools and how the process works then slowly undoes one padlock, doing it up again and muddling the picks she’d used into the pile of other picks on the table. She holds it out, “Who’s first?” Ash takes the lock, and she nods. “Don’t worry if it takes a moment to get used to. With enough practise it becomes second nature to look at a lock and know which picks you might need.” Ash nods taking a deep breathe before picking up some picks to give it a go. “Try not to get frustrated if you need to try lots of different combinations either.” Ash nods,

He knew he had to act swiftly and cautiously if he wanted to seize this opportunity. Examining the lock, Caleb noticed it was an old-fashioned, key-operated mechanism. His mind raced as he recalled any knowledge of lock-picking he had acquired over the years. With a surge of determination, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, hidden tool—a skill he had acquired during his time in the shadows. Carefully inserting the tool into the lock, Caleb began to manipulate the mechanism, his hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Each movement was calculated and precise, his focus unwavering. After a few tense moments, a satisfying click resonated through the air, i

And I had to get it off, before I did anything else. I bit my bottom lip and scanned the room, searching for anything I could use to unlock it. The chain was secured with a thick padlock. There was no way I could break it, which meant my only option was to pick it. Thankfully, I knew how. I’d learned long ago, back when Father used to lock me inside my room whenever he was angry. A pin, or anything thin and sharp, would do. But right now, I needed one. Where could I find it?

I don't want to question it though, as I sneak my way through the familiar hallways toward Malik's quarters. I'm not sure what to expect when I make it to his quarters. While Zariah had been out all day today, I had practiced my lock picking skills, to become fairly decent at them. Before I barged in, I leant against the door to listen for Malik. Dead silence. Taking a deep breath, cringing at the same time, I slipped the wire I had unwound from one of my bras into the lock. It took a few moments to hear the satisfying click of the lock, before I gently opened the door.

I reach into my bag. The lockpick case is in the inner pocket where it always lives, slim and worn at the edges from years of archive use. I crouch in front of his door and I work the lock, feeling for the tumblers the way I learned to years ago on a stuck archive door, and it takes longer than usual because residential locks are built differently, but eventually something gives and the door swings open and I go in.

He thought to himself with a smile. “I’ve picked this lock quite a few times, it won’t take me long” Teka smiled, inserting both of the slender metal pieces into the keyhole. Looking quite intensely at the keyhole, Teka dragged the hook shaped pick back and forth holding the slender piece stationary with her other hand. Soon Rex and Teka heard a small ‘click’ and she turned the slender metal bar like a key. Opening the gate, under Teka’s instructions, they continued into the area that Teka said had the holding cells.

Finally, I managed to hook the bone with my fingers and dragged it back toward me. I sat back on my heels, staring at the bone in my hand. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. The old woman who trained me after I was kidnapped had taught me many things, and one of them was how to pick a lock with something as simple as a bone. Never did i think I would need that particular lesson. I inserted the thin end of the bone into the lock. My hands shook slightly as I began to work. I had to stay calm. If I panicked, I would mess this up. I took a deep breath, focusing all my attention on what I was doing.

As she works, Jenny thinks of Richard, who taught her the art of picking different types of locks. "You have to feel the lock, imagine what it looks like inside. Use your hands, feel the vibrations, and listen for the clicks," he had instructed. When Jenny questioned why she needed to learn this skill, Richard explained that as the daughter of an important politician, she could find herself in unpredictable situations. Though she had initially believed that only criminals picked locks, Richard showed her it was a valuable skill for anyone. "Think about it, Jenny," he had said, guiding her hands and setting the pins aside. "If you're ever kidnapped, you could free yourself. Or imagine discove

I ask him. “Going to ground for the night.” He looks at the buildings carefully as we pass, then selects one. I know immediately why he chose it: the three newspapers piled at the doorway. A pretty good indication that no one is home. “Let me see the backpack,” he says. I hand it to him, and he pulls out a small box full of metal picks. Within seconds he is using them on the three different locks on the door, one by one. All three unlock. He opens the door and pauses for a second, listening.

I've learned how to lock pick, and now I have the perfect tool in my hands. I've noticed a five-minute window between each guard's watch, and I'm waiting for the perfect moment to make my move.